All or Nothing at All(50)

His mouth crashed over hers.

Her lips opened under his, and their tongues tangled together while he drank her honeyed nectar with a hungry impatience as if making up for the time apart. Kissing her again was a primitive, animalistic leap into the unknown with no markers set up on the path. It was darkness and light, past and present, vicious hunger and aching tenderness. He couldn't get enough.

Her hands were all over him, ripping his suit jacket off his shoulders and sliding her palms up his back, dragging him closer. The bite of her nails urged him on as he removed his fingers from her hair and dragged her skirt up to her hips, sliding back down to cup her full ass and lift her hard up against his chest. 

A moan spilled from her lips. He swallowed it, nipping at the swollen flesh. She nipped back and reached for his tie, yanking him down closer, her thighs wrapped around his hips, the scent of her feminine arousal drifting to his nostrils.

She engulfed him whole with her scorching heat and raw need, until he was desperate to bury himself between her thighs and mark her forever. He slid his hand up the back of her knee, squeezing gently, then bumped against the barrier that was her panties.

"Oh, God, you're soaked. I'm going to die." He bit between her shoulder and neck, and she convulsed, arching into his hand. He licked her hard nipple through her blouse, then tugged with his teeth.

"Not until you touch me." His tie was loosened, and she was struggling with the buttons on his shirt. He shifted her higher on top of the edge of the couch, and suddenly she yanked hard, popping the buttons off. They flew in every direction and skittered across the floor.

"Good girl."

He kissed her hard, ravaging her tender mouth as he hooked a finger under the elastic of her panties and slipped inside. Her wet, swollen folds gripped him and held tight. He added another digit and teased her, his thumb brushing her bud in light butterfly strokes.

She bit his lip in punishment while her hands explored his chest, tugging on the whorls of hair, flicking his nipples, dragging her nails downward toward his belt buckle. All the while, her body shook as if caught in a fever, reaching toward climax, but he kept her on edge, refusing to let her fall over too soon.

In retaliation, her hands gripped his erection through his pants and squeezed. He jumped in her grip, cursing as she traced his length, her thumb pressing against the straining fabric.

"That's it, you little witch. I'm done."

Her dazed eyes didn't register his next move. Pulling his fingers out of her dripping entrance, he lifted her high in the air and dumped her over the edge of the couch.

Her frustrated wail barely reached his ears before he followed her over. In seconds, he'd opened up her blouse and ripped down her panties so she was splayed before him in all her glory. Mad with lust, he gazed down at her. Skirt hiked up high around her hips, her pink flesh swollen and wet, heavy breasts straining against the white lace of her bra, hair tumbled around her shocked face. He savored every inch of her like a warrior claiming his spoils.

And she liked it. She had a hidden exhibitionist streak behind her sometimes-shy exterior, and it turned him on. He used to take her while he was still fully clothed, getting into the fantasy, but tonight he could only focus on burying himself deep inside her until he could rid himself of the brutal, throbbing ache of emptiness.

With slow, deliberate motions, he removed his belt. Unzipped his pants. Grabbed her fingers and placed them over his straining erection. Then pinned her with his gaze.

"You're the only woman that can wreck me, Syd. I need you tonight. Don't make me stop."

He waited for the hesitation and swore he'd back off if she changed her mind. He needed her to want him just as badly, so badly she didn't care about logic or the past or anything but how they craved each other until nothing else mattered.

She sat halfway up, her face inches from his. Gaze narrowed. Skin flushed, damp with perspiration, choppy breath rushing over his lips. His heart stopped, afraid she would send him away.

"Fuck me, Tristan."

She ripped down his underwear and covered his mouth with hers.

Tristan pressed her deep into the cushions. With their mouths fused, he jerked against her soft, hot hands as she tortured him, his skin stretched so tight it skated the fine line between pain and pleasure. Drunk on her taste, he kissed her with a brutal force, unable to get enough, and finally ripped his mouth away from hers to drop down the length of her body.




 

 

"No," she gasped, trying to wiggle away from his grip and force him against her.

"Yes."

"But I want-oh, God!"

Her slick flesh was heaven under his tongue. Growling deep in his throat with pleasure, he licked and sucked her, nibbling on her swollen clit, bringing her to the hard edge, then backing off. She begged and pleaded, twisted underneath him for more, for less, caught up in the brewing storm neither of them was going to escape.